


A One-Track Mind

by uena



Series: The Sweetest Thing [41]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 16:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7368604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis is somewhat pre-occupied with recent events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A One-Track Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princeyoungjaes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeyoungjaes/gifts).



They’re in a cuddle pile on the sofa, all three of them. It’s comfortable and warm and cozy, with Athos in the middle, Aramis against the backrest, and Porthos the bulwark that saves them all from falling off.

It’s still early, and they could have gone back to bed, but somehow neither of them wanted to.

This feels right. This is how it’s supposed to be.

It doesn’t hurt that it forces them so close together that they’re practically on top of each other. At least it doesn’t hurt Aramis. He loves cuddle piles; so he’s trying to focus on the now instead of what he came to witness half an hour ago: Athos, more or less naked on the counter, with Porthos’ head between his legs.

It was a strong visual, so early in the morning - would have been just as strong at any other time of day, really.

God, it was hot. Aramis has no idea how he didn’t come into his shorts at the mere sight.

Now Athos is soft and sleepy in Porthos’ arms, so wonderfully snuggly, and Aramis can’t stop touching him, can’t stop visualizing Athos’ expression when Porthos made him come. His mind keeps replaying the way Athos stammered Porthos’ name, all those perfect filthy sounds they made together.

It was such a special moment for both of them, Aramis knows that; and he wishes he could stop fantasizing about how it would have felt like if it had been _him_ blowing Athos - how it would be like to get his mouth on Athos’ cock and be the one to make him feel that good, to be the one Athos trusts enough to let him do that.

Aramis sighs and and snuggles closer to Athos, closes his eyes and grins. They’ll get there … probably. He knows that stuff like this isn’t easy for Athos, that sex doesn’t come as naturally to him as it does to Aramis.

Which makes what happened even more special.

Porthos is radiating happiness like a furnace; his giddiness is infectious, makes Aramis giggle and finally break the silence they’d been basking in until now. “So - can I ask how it happened, or is it a secret?”

Athos makes a drowsy noise and mushes his cheek against Porthos’ chest, apparently unwilling to explain himself.

Porthos snorts. “ _Someone_ was bein’ emotionally constipated.”

Athos grunts and slaps him, and Porthos gives him a kiss - a proper one.

Aramis watches it happen, watches the flush mount to Athos’ cheeks, the flutter in his lashes, their tongues -

He clears his throat and looks away, and Porthos reaches out to him, reaches around Athos and laces their fingers, gives Aramis’ hand a gentle squeeze.

Aramis melts on the spot.

He kisses Athos’ shoulder, because it’s there and because he can, clears his throat once more. “He can’t have been all that constipated if he got you to blow him.”

That statement is followed by a peculiar noise leaving Porthos’ mouth, and then he breaks the kiss, looks at Aramis over Athos’ shoulder. “I’ll have you know that such talk’ll have to wait till after breakfast.”

“But you had yours,” comes Athos’ voice from out of the cramped space between their bodies.

It’s such an unusually indecent thing for him to say that both Aramis and Porthos freeze in amazement.

“Eh, now I’ve done it,” Porthos says eventually, voice completely flat. “I’ve blown his brains out.”

“And at first try,” Aramis adds weakly.

Athos chortles and turns around in Porthos’ arms, nuzzles Aramis’ naked chest. “He did have some practise with you, did he not?”

Aramis can’t help himself, has to kiss him.

Athos lifts his chin and kisses him back, puts his arms around Aramis’ neck, and it takes Aramis a moment until he notices that Athos is holding on to him - for support, to steady himself … possibly.

Aramis can’t really tell.

“Athos, are you alright?”

“I am still struggling to accept that it actually happened,” Athos says, keeps his eyes closed and licks his lips. “My best friend blew me in the kitchen. I actually allowed the boy who used to put straws up his nose and played at being a brain sucking alien _from the Dread Marshes_ -” here he pauses for dramatic effect - “to go near my cock.”

For a second there Aramis doesn’t know what to reply, then he has an epiphany. “So he didn’t actually blow your brains out but _sucked_ them out, yes?”

Porthos lets out an amused snort, directly against Athos’ neck, and Athos shudders, starts to laugh half a second later. “Oh bollocks, that visual is permanent now.”

Porthos makes a wheezing noise and flops on top of them, flattens them into the couch. “I’ll remember to put some straws in the next time we try it. Should take care of our nerves, eh love?”

“Most definitely,” Athos agrees.

He’s looking up at Porthos with a smile in his eyes, and Aramis sighs, knows that he has hearts in his own.

He kind of wishes they would stop talking about Athos’ cock though. Aramis didn’t really get to see it earlier, because Porthos’ head was in the way, and he most certainly didn’t get a taste of it.

Now he wants to. Desperately.

Which is rather interesting and even kind of weird, because Aramis didn’t use to be a cock-slut - at least not as far as he can remember.

Before Porthos (and Athos) Aramis was kind of meh about anal sex. It was seldom the way he imagined it, usually over too soon, or even uncomfortable while in progress.

After Andy very few people seemed to be willing to put in the necessary time for proper preparation - which is all kinds of sad, in retrospect. Aramis very nearly shudders at the implication and hastily puts his thought process back on regulated tracks.

Because Porthos. Porthos was willing to put in the time - he always is. Nobody could be more invested in Aramis’ pleasure, or more willing to try out new and exciting ways to make him come.

He’s also one of the most well-equipped men Aramis has ever come across, both physically and in terms of toys.

So it’s his fault, basically.

Everything’s his fault.

He’s the one who introduced Aramis and Athos and thus the reason why Aramis got to see Athos’ cock in the first place, and now he’s the one who licked it and made Athos like it - and if Aramis’ development under his hands is any indication … oh boy, are they in for some fun.

But no, Aramis is getting ahead of himself.

Athos isn’t like that. He never was. Which is completely alright, in theory - if Aramis gets to blow him at least _once_.

It’s either that, or electro shock therapy to wean him off the idea.


End file.
